A Face in the Crowd
by Marcus S. Lazarus
Summary: Skinner is cured of his invisibility, but when a mysterious new foe threatens the League, he must make a choice between the life he wanted, or the family he received...
1. Talks in Bars

Disclaimer: I don't own anyone here that you recognise.

Feedback: Much appreciated

AN: I tried uploading a trailer for this a while back, but deleted it on the grounds that it wasn't allowed, so I figured I'd just upload the story straight away. Anyway, hope you like it.

A Face in the Crowd

The man sat and stared at the beer in front of him, and wondered how it had come to this.

Where had it all gone wrong? It had seemed so much simpler back then; he'd find the secret, publish it, and the world would be at his feet, as he deserved. But then that… bastard had ruined everything, leaving him on the run. He'd probably still have been in that situation if he hadn't managed to trick that other fool into being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Still… he couldn't deny the last few months had been enjoyable enough, in their own way. The women, the sex, the sights…

He sighed again and took a sip of his beer. It had gotten stale, really. That was the problem; he'd lost interest. After all, he may have been a god among men, but he didn't have an inexhaustible stamina, regrettably; he'd had to quit before his urges destroyed him.

"Everything OK?" a voice said from further down the bar.

The man looked down at the landlord of the pub, an slightly overweight man called simply 'Bert', and just nodded as he took another sip.

Bert nodded in return and turned to look at the only other person in the bar. He gave the man the impression of being a government official of some kind, but he couldn't place what. He was even more overweight than the barlord, and was dressed in a dark, formal business suit with a green waistcoat. His hair was dark and short, and he had a small, curled moustache, holding a small glass of what looked like a martini in his hands.

"Anyway, Campion, how's business these days?" Bert asked the official. It sounded like the two men were friends from a while back, particularly since the man talked to Bert in a very casual manner. It was almost as though neither of them registered the other man in the bar, although he doubted it would have made much difference; he'd developed very acute hearing in recent times.

"Oh, the usual," the fat man sighed, speaking a bit quieter then Bert, although still not quiet enough for the man to not hear them. "The League are being as awkward as ever; quite frankly, after the outburst of the spy, I'm amaze Mycroft's let them stick around this long."

"Well, probably acknowledges it's for the best," Bert said, as he topped up the fat man's martini. "After all, what with that invisible chappie and the vampire woman you mentioned, he probably thinks that it's not worth the risk; it'd be too easy for them to acquire something to hold over your heads."

"True, true…" Campion nodded, as he took another brief sip of his martini. "But still, I do wish they wouldn't keep on sticking around in that bloody thing, wasting our money on those bloody hotels, and giving the doctor and the teacher all those chemicals…" He sighed. "It just gets frustrating at times. They don't even use the hotel rooms half the time; most of them stay in that stupid submarine…"

The man blinked in surprise at the words he'd heard.

There was _another_…?

He clenched his hand so tight around the glass that it nearly cracked.

No.

There would not be another.

There was him, and him alone.

He was the One.

And if any pretender tried to claim his title…

Downing the last of his beer in one swig, he dropped a few coins onto the table to pay for it, turned up the collar of his coat, and walked out of the bar.


	2. Poker and Pokes

Disclaimer: I don't own anyone here that you recognise.

Feedback: Much appreciated

**Clez: **Well, in Bond's defence, he had drunk quite a bit, and didn't really think the man could hear him, and… OK, the man should be shot in the face for being such a -ing idiot.

**Samyo:** Hope it continues to meet with your approval, Sam

A Face in the Crowd

"Four queens," Skinner smiled, as he spread his cards out on the table. "Read 'em and weep, my friends." Spreading out his hands, he dragged the small pile of chips in the middle of the table towards him, grinning around at the other three.

Sawyer sighed as he slapped his cards face-down onto the table and looked around at the others. "That's it," he said, as he looked over at Skinner's rapidly-growing pile of chips. "I've had it with this whole game. I can't focus. And-" he said, looking around at the others, "it's all your fault."

Terry looked up at his friend from where he was staring at his cards. "What do you mean?" he asked Sawyer.

Sawyer sighed. "What do I _mean_, Terry? Look at you guys! A… cybernetic organism… whose face never changes expression, Skinner, whose eyes I can't see, and the woman who knows me so well she can tell whether I'm happy about my cards or not."

"Don't exaggerate, Tom," Mina said, looking over at her lover with a slight smile on her face. "Besides, even if I could predict your mood that well, I'd never use that advantage to beat you. You know me too well for that."

Sawyer looked briefly like he was about to reply to that in some way, but instead just sighed and looked over at Mina.

"Why do you always have to be so right?" he asked her, as he leaned in towards her slowly.

"Maybe because I love you?" Mina replied, leaning towards Sawyer herself.

Sawyer shrugged as he slightly closed his eyes. "Maybe…" he said, already imagining her soft lips on his…

* * *

"Um, can we get back to the game here?" Skinner asked, smiling slightly at his two friends' suddenly flustered expressions as they pulled away from each other. He loved doing that to them at times; letting them get just close enough to each other for it to be embarrassing, and then reminding them that there were still other people in the room apart from them. At first it had annoyed Mina and Tom, but in recent times they'd allowed it to become mere routine; just another factor of being in the League that they'd have to get used to. 

"Oh, uh, right… sure thing," Sawyer said, picking up his cards again and looking at the table. "So, where were we again?"

Skinner seemed about to answer, but then someone knocked on the door to the game room.

"Come in," Terry said, glancing back at the door in question. The door opened and Jekyll and Hartdegen walked in, both looking rather pleased with themselves. Jekyll was holding a syringe filled with a greenish-brown coloured liquid, which he was holding as though it were something more delicate then it was.

"What's that?" Sawyer asked, putting down the cards and looking at the syringe.

Jekyll smiled. "Skinner's cure," he replied.

Skinner looked up at that. "What?" he said, a hopeful expression on his face.

"You heard me," Jekyll said, smiling as he held the syringe up in front of him, point up. "If this is injected into Mr Skinner, it should cancel out the serum in his blood and render his cells capable of absorbing and reflecting light once again."

"Really?" Skinner said, smiling like the cat that had gotten the proverbial cream. "Well, that's… that's great!"

"Yeah," Sawyer smiled, patting his friend on the shoulder, a slight smile on his face, "You get what you wanted, buddy." Then a thought occurred to him, and he looked back at Skinner. "You can borrow some of my stuff for the moment, OK?" he said.

Skinner blinked and looked back at his friend. "What?" he said.

"Mr Skinner, in all the time you have been with us, we have never seen you wear anything other then that black coat and hat," Mina said, looking over at the invisible man with a slight small on her face. "If you regain your visibility while you are still wearing just the coat, well…" She smirked. "I doubt you wish to be arrested as soon as you go outside the _Nautilus_."

"Ah," Skinner said, as Mina's point struck him. "Yeah, I see what you mean…"

He looked over at Sawyer. "Let's go," he said. "Just… nothing that's been shot at, OK?"

"Sure thing," Sawyer said, before he looked over at Jekyll. "We'll meet you in the lab soon, OK?"

* * *

"So, Doc, how'd you come up with this cure?" Skinner asked, as he sat down in the _Nautilus_'sscience laboratory and rolled up his sleeve. He was now dressed in a pair of brown trousers, an old, almost yellow shirt, and his own black coat was slung over the back of a chair. 

"Well, I found a few samples of the Beast's blood that had gotten onto our clothes after our last fight with him," Jekyll explained, as he checked over the syringe for the last time. "It occurred to me that, if he was capable of becoming visible and invisible at will, there might be something in there that I could replicate and use for you. Hartdegen gave me a bit of a hand- some people in the future owed him a favour, as always- and, well, here we are." He picked up the syringe again and looked over at Skinner, who had finished rolling up his sleeve and was sitting there, apparently holding his arm out onto the table beside him.

Jekyll noted that, for the first time in their acquaintance, Skinner hadn't put any greasepaint on his face; there was just a space where his head would be. He was briefly surprised, but saw the point of it; if he was going to become visible again, he'd want to be able to see his face straight away, and the paint wouldn't serve any purpose on that front.

"You're sure you want to do this?" he said, as he looked over at Skinner. "I mean, if you go through with this, I can give you no guarantee you'll be able to become invisible at will like the Beast; you may just be visible for good. You will no longer be an extraordinary gentleman; you'll just be a man."

Skinner shrugged. "Eh, I never wanted this job in the first place," he said. "I'll be glad to get away from the danger."

Jekyll sighed. "Very well," he said, looking at Skinner. "Clench your fist."

Skinner rapped lightly on the table after a few seconds to show he'd done that.

Taking Skinner's arm in his hand, Jekyll felt along until he'd found the vein he was looking for.

He plunged the needle into his friend's arm.


	3. Powerless and Irresponsible

Disclaimer: I don't own anyone here that you recognise.

Feedback: Much appreciated

**Samyo: **Not _that _Beast; the Beast Jekyll's talking about appeared in my story _Legacy_, and was a creature with the power of practically all of the League's original members, including the ability to become visible and invisible at well.

**Clez: **Well, this one's a bit slow, but I'm hoping it'll get more interesting later on…

**Ten Mara: **I try my best; glad to hear it went down well. Oh, and thanks for the compliment about the card scene; I got the idea for that from a _Star Trek _novel I read some years back.

A Face in the Crowd

As the needle broke through his flesh, Skinner winced slightly from the pain. When he'd originally taken the invisibility serum, he'd only needed to drink it, which he'd been grateful for; he'd never enjoyed being on the receiving end of any sharp objects. Now, here he was, having to get 'stabbed' just so he could reverse the effects of the bloody stuff…

Why couldn't the cure be the same as the cause?

Then shooting pain tore though his body as Jekyll removed the needle, and Skinner knew for sure that this was the cure; his body's reaction to taking the invisibility serum had been the same as this one, just a bit less painful.

Of course, he could see how that would make sense; the serum had just been adding something to his cells that they hadn't had before. This, on the other hand, was trying to remove something from the cells that had been there for almost a year now, so he guessed it was only naturally that it should hurt so much…

"GYAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!" Skinner screamed, as all logical thought left his body, replaced only by the constant, tearing pain that spread throughout his body, tearing into his arms, his legs, his chest, his head, his _heart_…

Then, all of a sudden, the pain was over.

Gasping for breath, Skinner slumped back in the chair, staring up at the ceiling as he tried to think clearly once again while gasping for breath like a fish on dry land. Leaning forward, he clasped his head in his hands as he tried to cope with the massive headache that had suddenly settled in…

Then he stopped.

His hands.

He could see his hands.

He could _see his hands_!

He looked up at Jekyll excitedly, and saw that the doctor was looking at him with an expression of amazement that mimicked the one that must have been on his face at that moment.

"Did it work?" Skinner asked eagerly. Jekyll could only nod with astonishment; evidently, he hadn't been expecting the process to be so effective so fast.

"Quick; a mirror!" Skinner yelled excitedly, looking around for one in the lab, his eyes eventually falling on a largish mirror that Nemo had been using for his new experiment in creating a weapon that used strong light rather then bullets to hurt the other side.

Grabbing it, Skinner stared at it…

And gasped.

He was there.

He was really visible.

He was really _cured_…

He raised one hand to feel his features, no longer needing to worry about smudging his paint. His slightly tanned skin… his light blue eyes, so pale they were almost grey… his shockingly white eyebrows, the only hair on his head…

"I'm… I'm normal again…" he whispered, turning to look at Jekyll with a broad grin on his face.

* * *

Jekyll just smiled a slightly saddened grin. It was probably a bit selfish of him, he knew, but he couldn't help wishing that he could solve his own problems that easily as well as Skinner's.

But Hyde…

Well, he wasn't the kind of 'scientific accident', for lack of a better term, that would go away very easily.

_And don't you forget it, Henry…_ Edward growled in the back of Jekyll's mind.

"So, Skinner," he said, looking at his friend curiously. "What are you going to do now?"

His train of thought broken, Skinner put down the mirror and looked over at his friend. His expression was thoughtful for a few seconds, but then he sighed.

"I… I dunno," he said, looking down at his hands for a few seconds. Then, curiously, he closed his eyes and spent a few seconds apparently in deep concentration, before opening his eyes and looking down at himself.

He sighed. "Didn't work," he said, nonchalantly.

"What?" Jekyll asked, looking at Skinner curiously. "What didn't work?"

"I was trying to turn invisible," Skinner said, looking at Jekyll again. "It didn't work; Guess I've lost the power." He sighed, got up, and stretched. "Well… I guess I'll be off."

* * *

A couple of hours later, Skinner was standing at the bank of the Thames, a large leather bag slung over his shoulder as he looked at the streets around him. He couldn't even remember the last time he'd felt the sun hit his skin directly, without the paint getting in the way; that stuff always made it harder to really appreciate the warmth of the sun…

He turned around and looked back at the rest of the League. They'd all gathered together to see him off, after Jekyll had passed on the news of his departure.

Skinner smiled as he looked around at his… friends. A part of him almost regretted that he was leaving now, after they'd been through so much together…

He shook it off. He'd never wanted to be a member of the League; he'd only wanted a cure for the invisibility, and he'd got that. He didn't need to stick around anymore.

"Look… you guys know you can always talk to me if you need info on the criminal side of London, right?" he asked, looking at them as he tried to seem casual.

"Yeah, we know that," Sawyer smiled, one hand in his waistcoat pocket as he stepped forward, one hand outstretched. "I guess… this is goodbye?"

Skinner took the hand and shook it. "Yeah." He swallowed, and looked around at the League. "You guys… take care, OK?"

Mina smiled at Skinner and, walking down towards him, kissed him lightly on the cheek.

"You too," she said to him.

Skinner briefly smiled back at her, then he turned around and walked away from the _Nautilus_, away from the League…

Away from his….

_Stop it!_ He yelled at himself. _You've got the bloody cure; you don't need them anymore!_

Maybe he'd believe it eventually…

* * *

_Dammit! _the man thought to himself, as he watched the impostor walk away from the massive submarine that was his temple. He couldn't believe this; he went to all this effort to track down the blasphemer, and he went and bailed out before he could punish him!

Then, he smirked.

He couldn't punish the impostor, but he _could _punish the others…

After all, without the great power of invisibility among their arsenal, they would have no chance against a god like himself. He would observe, learn, and act accordingly.

And then….

He grinned.

He would show them who they should have worshipped, rather then that pale imitation that they had chosen to pay homage to.


	4. A Hero Alone

Disclaimer: I don't own anyone here that you recognise.

Feedback: Much appreciated

**Samyo: **Like it so far? Wait until you see what's happening here…

**Ten Mara: **Oh, you'll have to wait and see on that front… First, however, Skinner's going to have _quite _a bit of work to get done before he realises the danger the League are in…

A Face in the Crowd

Skinner sighed as he nursed a mug of beer while he sat slumped in a bar somewhere off Times Square. He wasn't sure what he was doing there; he'd wandered off a boarding house, dumped his bags and paid the landlord enough money for the next few day's rent, and then gone out for a bit of a walk…

No; he couldn't kid himself about it. He hadn't gone out for a walk, he'd gone to find somewhere to rob. He needed to get back in the game, he needed something nice and expensive to get him started back in this area…

And he couldn't find anything interesting.

Oh, he'd passed by several promising-looking houses on his walks around London- _finding _potential targets had never been a problem for him.

He just…

He sighed.

He had to admit it.

The targets were _too easy_ for him. Even without his invisibility, after all his time with the League he'd picked up several useful ways to get into places; these places would be child's play for him to break into now, even with his new disadvantage of having to get used to being visible again.

Besides, after his fights with the likes of the Morlocks and the Beast, what did he really have to fear from pulling off burglaries? After everything else he'd seen in his time with the League, prison no longer held any terrors for him; he was pretty sure he could deal with it if he had to. Part of the thrill of being a thief was the risk of getting caught, and if he didn't have that, then, well, there wasn't really much point in trying anything…

"Bad day?" the bartender said, looking curiously at Skinner as he took another sip of his beer.

"You could say that," Skinner shrugged, as he placed his glass back down on the bar and looked over at the bar lord. "I lost my job today; lost something that I needed to work there, and can't get it back, and, well..."

He sighed. "You know how it is; sometimes, you never know what you wanted until you've actually lost it. I always thought I hated the job, but, well, you get pretty used to it, actually. And now…" He groaned. "It's just… _ironic_, really, y'know? I only joined the job to get the ability to leave it, but now that I have, I dunno what to do with myself."

"Ah," the bartender said, as he picked up a newspaper and passed it over to Skinner. "Try checking the 'Help Wanted' column is all I can say to you; maybe you'll spot something interesting."

"Thanks," Skinner said simply, picking the paper up and starting to flick through it. He wasn't really sure where the 'Help' ads were, and was mostly just counting on pot luck to help him get there…

He froze as an article near the middle of the paper caught his eye.

**Miraculous Conceptions at Boarding School**

Skinner blinked in surprise.

"What the…" he muttered to himself, as he looked at the heading for a few seconds. Then he picked the paper up and began to read the article, only partly to satisfy his own curiosity.

What he read didn't make him feel any better.

According to the article, an all-girl's school known as Miss Rosa Coote's Correctional Academy for Wayward Gentlewomen had recently become the victim of some visits by something that the girls claimed was the Holy Spirit, which then went on to get very… involved with some of the young women in question.

Whether that was true, or whether the girls had all concocted this bizarre story to hide some weird kind of group sex (Skinner's own thoughts on the matter, naturally; they didn't say anything that explicit in the article), didn't change the facts; In the past few months, at least three girls had become pregnant by this 'Spirit', and, as nobody had seen any sign of somebody going into or leaving the dorms, they were a bit stuck as to an alternative explanation.

Skinner, however, could think of a couple of alternatives right off the top of his head, and none of them were exactly encouraging.

"No…" he muttered to himself, trying desperately to think of some other alternative. "Please, no. Not _another_…!"

He sighed, swallowed the last of his beer, and continued to stare at the article. There had to be another explanation… There _had _to be!

He could do this; he'd seen Mina, Jekyll and Sawyer put clues together to make a sensible picture of a situation countless times, he'd flicked through countless copies of the _Strand _magazine during his old days in London, he knew what could and couldn't constitute a clue…

He sighed, and dropped the paper back on the bar table.

He might as well accept it; this method of solving the problem wasn't getting him anywhere. He'd never exactly been gifted with the possession of a very keen deductive mind; if he was, he'd probably have tried for a career in detection rather than theft. His time with the League had improved many things about him, but they hadn't changed _that_.

Then again…

Skinner smiled slightly as he studied the article, a plan forming in his mind. Even though the League had never been officially part of any government agency, they had managed to arrange private bank accounts for each of them with the British and American secret services, to act as a kind of 'salary' for them; the way they say it, if they were going to maintain contacts with the Government, they might as well get something out of it for themselves.

Despite all their travels, the League had yet to use any money in the accounts in the four or so months since it had been set up, and there was a fairly substantial amount in there. Not enough to support anyone on a long-term basis, but, if Skinner's plan worked, he wouldn't need to use _that _much of it…

He smiled.

He had a plan.

And he was going to enjoy putting it into action.

_Time to show I'm not just good at going unnoticed_, Skinner though to himself, as he stood up, left a few coins on the counter, and walked on out of the bar, his head held high and a plan in his mind.

* * *

Sawyer sighed slightly as he took a brief sip of his beer, looking over at Hartdegen as he put it back down on the bar.

"Ideas?" he asked his friend, who was nursing a similar glass to him. Following Skinner's departure, the League were trying to decide what to do about his absence; carry on without him, invite one of their reserves to join the League on a longer-term basis, or just try and work out another way to make someone invisible.

Sawyer and Hartdegen had decided to discuss the matter over a few drinks, while Nemo, Mina and Jekyll, being the chemists in the team, were discussing matters back in the _Nautilus_. Terry, on the other hand, had simply retired to his room, requesting that he be summoned if they needed his assistance.

"Nothing springs to mind," Hartdegen said, sighing slightly as he took another sip of his beer and looked back at his friend. "After all, none of us are exactly keen to become invisible on top of everything else that's odd about us; quite frankly, I'm amazed Skinner didn't try and get a cure long ago."

"Yeah, it's not exactly an easy thing to live with, is it?" Sawyer sighed, as he stared listlessly into space. Then he shook his head and turned back to Hartdegen. "Anyway, moping about what we _can't _do to solve this problem isn't helping matters; couldn't we… I dunno, figure out a way to create an outfit of some kind that makes the wearer invisible?"

Hartdegen shook his head. "It wouldn't work," he said. "The serum's only effective on living tissue; we'd need to make a coat out of live animals in order for that plan to get anywhere, and even then all that would probably happen is that we'd have created an invisible suit." He smiled slightly at that thought. "All that we'd have accomplished with that little stunt is literally creatingthe Emperor's New Clothes."

"Oh yeah, that old Hans Christian Andersen story," Sawyer said, nodding in agreement as he took another sip of his beer. "Always preferred 'The Snow Queen' myself…"

Shaking his head to ward off that pointless line of thought, Sawyer looked back at Hartdegen.

"OK, so an invisible suit from _now_ isn't an option; couldn't you use some of your contacts in the future and have them whip something up?" he suggested. "I mean, it's their past they'd be preserving; couldn't you convince them to help us out here?"

Hartdegen sighed.

"Believe me, I wish I could," he said, taking another sip of his beer. "Unfortunately, they've always made one thing clear about our professional relationship; they'll give me something if I'll be destroying it soon afterwards, but they won't entrust me with anything that will be needed on a long-term basis."

He shrugged as he took another sip. "Of course, I can see their point; if I kept anything from then here for very long, there's a chance that it'll fall into the wrong hands, who could use it to change history for the worst."

He smiled briefly at the thought. "It's an understandable concern, I suppose; their world is an incredible place, it's understandable they wish to make sure that it comes to pass."

"Mmm," Sawyer commented half-heartedly, as he took another sip of his beer and glanced up at the clock on the barroom wall. He sighed, and placed the now-empty glass down on the table.

"We'd better get going," he said, indicating the clock. "You heard what Nemo said; he's locking the _Nautilus _up at eleven, and it's nearly half-past ten already."

* * *

As the teacher and the agent stepped out of the bar, the figure, who had been watching them since they left the _Nautilus_, waiting for his chance to strike, smiled.

_Perfect_, he mused. In their current condition, even if they weren't totally stoned out of their mind, they definitely weren't in the best of shape, so it would be far easier to take them down.

From this position, he could easily knock out at least one of them with a well-aimed rock or similar projectile, and then all he'd need to do was lure the other one into an alleyway somewhere, and then…

He smiled.

Payback time would begin.

_Time they witnessed the power of their true god_… he mused to himself.

* * *

"Note to self; _never _drink so much just because you're in a bar…" Sawyer mused to himself private, gazing up at the stars above him reflectively.

He looked over curiously at Hartdegen, who was now clutching his head and looking dazedly around him.

Sawyer sighed; what was it about teachers and drinking? They _always _overdid it…

"C'mon, Hartdegen," he sighed, reaching over and grabbing his friend's arm. "Let's get-"

"UGH!" Hartdegen grunted, his head reeling back before he collapsed to the ground. As the former university professor collapsed to the ground, Sawyer saw the cause of the collapse; a medium-sized rock, hitting him right in the back of the head and knocking him down for the count.

Sawyer didn't even stop to think; he drew his Colts and spun around, looking for the man who had thrown that rock at the head of his friend…

Nothing.

He blinked in confusion.

_Nothing_?

There couldn't be _nothing _there! He knew that there were a couple of alternatives to just normal criminals attacking them, but it couldn't have been _that_; the Beast wouldn't try something as mundane as a rock, Skinner wouldn't have done something like this even if he was still invisible, and he was pretty sure that Reed was dead…

Sawyer swallowed.

That only left him two options for candidates for this particular stunt.

A ghost…

Or a _fourth _invisible man.

_God, why didn't Griffin write that formula on the bloody wall?_ Sawyer sighed, as he raised his weapons and looked nervously around himself, trying to spot something- _anything_- that might be a hint at the presence of this new, unseen foe. A shifting piece of earth, a leaf floating in mid-air…

_There has to be _something_, dammit!_ Sawyer thought to himself. _Skinner said himself that he could be seen by a good observer! I learned from _Allan Quartermain_; I should be able to see _something

He looked again.

Still nothing…

Sighing, Sawyer slid his pistols back into their holsters, turned around to head back towards Hartdegen…

And was instantly struck in the back by something.

As Sawyer fell, he reacted on instinct; he reached inside his jacket, grabbed one of his pistols, rolled over onto his back as he raised the pistol…

And found himself staring at an iron bar, floating in mid-air, held up in what would probably be called a combat stance if he could see the rest of the body that was holding the bar in question.

Sawyer stared at the bar for a few seconds, and then a voice spoke. It wasn't a voice Sawyer recognised; it was deep, and tinged with a madness unlike anything he'd heard before.

"Blasphemer," it said simply.

Then the bar swung towards his head, he heard a resounding crack, and everything went black.

He didn't even have time to wonder what the voice had meant by that last comment.


	5. Rodney Skinner, Gentleman Detective?

Disclaimer: I don't own anyone here that you recognise.

Feedback: Much appreciated

**Ingra:** Not any time soon, I'm sorry to say, but there's going to be _quite _a bit happening before then, I assure you…

**Samyo: **I did; preferred the movie, though

**Ten Mara:** I did what I could. Personally, I always saw Skinner as a better character than he pretended to be; almost a reluctant hero, but only because he's not all that keen on _being _a hero even though he's very good at it.

**DiabloCat: **Thanks for that; always a pleasure to see that my bad guy's proving popular.

A Face in the Crowd

Skinner idly fingered his collar as his carriage trundled along the road towards the school; no matter what he did, the thing was _still _uncomfortable.

He sighed. Too bad he hadn't managed to get in more practice at disguise work during his time with the League…

Then again, it wasn't like there hadn't been a good reason for that; a man with no apparent hands or head wasn't exactly inconspicuous, and his greasepaint didn't exactly help him blend casually in with society at large.

He shrugged, staring down at the dark grey suit he'd purchased shortly before sending his request for an appointment to the school. He supposed he couldn't complain; after all, it wasn't like there'd been much call for disguises in the League anyway; stealth missions had never been much of an essential factor in dealing with any of their previous foes.

They'd had advanced warnings about the Morlocks, the T-X, and the Martians, and while the Shark and the Beast had taken them by surprise with their strengths, they'd still been fairly easy to put down once they'd had a chance to think about what they were dealing with.

But disguises… never really been needed. Skinner briefly found he hoping that the League would get the chance to do that soon- every little trick helped- but shook that thought off.

It wasn't his business anymore.

He'd retired from the League.

He'd find out if his theory was correct, then he'd try and make a new life for himself after this last bit of business was attended to.

The carriage stopped, and he got out of it, looking curiously around at the school.

"Ah, Mr Skinner, I presume?" a loud female voice said.

Turning, Skinner found himself faced with a tall, imposing-looking figure in a dark purple dress. Her skin was noticeably paler than the norm for a human, although not quite to the level of Skinner in his greasepaint, with a prominent nose and dark hair pulled back into a tight bun.

However, despite his current concerns, Skinner's attention was briefly drawn to the woman's chest, which was…

Far larger than anything he'd seen before.

_Geez, how the hell can this woman even _stand_, with those things in front of her?_ He thought to himself.

Then, remembering his reasons for being here, he smiled slightly at her and held out his hand.

"Yes, that's me," he said, trying to smother his normal accent. "Do I have the pleasure of addressing Miss Rosa Coote?"

"Indeed you do," Miss Coote smiled. "Now, let's get down to business; I understand you wish to enrol your daughter here, and have come over to inspect the premises?"

"Indeed," Skinner said, trying hard to remember how Jekyll commonly walked when in public; he wasn't exactly an ideal template, but given that he was the most 'upper-class' of the whole League, he was the best template Skinner could think of.

Then again, Mycroft might be a good idea too…

"I'm sure that your standards are excellent, but I prefer to make sure that Elizabeth shall be in safe hands myself," he said, already cursing himself for his choice of name (_Elizabeth_! He couldn't have been more unoriginal if he'd _tried_!) "Her mother died a few years back, and, for all her flaws, she is all I have left of my dear wife."

"A commendable attitude, Mr Skinner," Miss Coote said, as she walked along beside Skinner into the school's long corridors and started to walk along. "I assure you, however, that you have no need for concern; our standards are exceptionally high, and we always keep a good eye on our pupils."

"Of course, of course," Skinner said, waving a hand dismissively. "However, with your recent… reputation for the curious, shall we say… I felt it best to inspect things firsthand."

"Ah, you mean our miraculous conceptions?" Miss Coote asked, waving a dismissive hand. "They attract so much attention here, we've had to redecorate!"

"Really?" Skinner said, looking around briefly at the scaffolding around the corridor before glancing back at Miss Coote. "If you don't mind my asking, surely your unexpected mothers don't exactly view this as simply an attraction? After all, they _are _undertaking a great commitment because of them, are they not?" (Inwardly, Skinner groaned; honestly, he'd start to sound like old 'Cannibal', as he personally thought of Mycroft, at the rate he was going!)

"Oh, why don't you ask one of them yourself, Mr Skinner?" Miss Coote asked, indicating a blonde-haired woman in a school uniform with a slightly protruding stomach. "This is Miss Randall of Riverboro, Maine; one of the first of our little mothers." She looked over at the girl with a smile. "Mr Skinner here was just expressing an interest in your condition, Miss Randall."

"Remarkable thing, sir; the Holy Spirit just seemed to… enter into me," the young woman said, shaking Skinner's hand as she spoke. "If it's a girl, I'm namin' it Becky, like me."

"A good name, to be sure," Skinner said, trying to remember to stay in character; after all, a well-to-do aristocrat wouldn't grab a young girl and start violently shaking her, trying to make her see that this _couldn't _be the Holy Spirit, because since when was God so damn _vague _about something like what was apparently the bloody Second Coming…

But he restrained himself.

This wouldn't do him any good.

As the girl walked away, Skinner glanced curiously over at Miss Coote.

"On the subject, when did these… conceptions start to occur?" he asked, trying to sound just idly curious.

"Around three month ago," Miss Coote said, waving her hand dismissively. "We'd heard a few odd rumours from among the girls, but didn't think anything of it; you know young women, Mr Skinner, they'll make up anything these days, won't they?"

"Yes, indeed," Skinner said, laughing in a manner that sounded fake even to him. "Tell me, did anything happen at that point that might explain these visits in a more… conventional manner? I mean, did a new pupil arrive from somewhere or another?"

Miss Coote seemed about to reply with a negative, but stopped herself and nodded thoughtfully.

"Well, we _did _receive a new pupil from a small town around the border," she said, looking over at Skinner in a slightly quizzical manner as she spoke, as though wondering why he was asking all this, but too sensible to reject a possible parent's requests. "She was the niece of some physicst from that region; he claimed that he was concerned about her behaviour after an old schoolfriend of his went rogue, and he sent her here to calm down."

"What was his name?" Skinner asked, inwardly nervous. He thought he had a pretty good idea; the book had never _mentioned _him having a niece, but then, it had been focusing more on the _other_…

"Kemp, I believe," Miss Coote said eventually. "Doctor Kemp from Burdock, if memory serves."

Skinner barely managed to stop himself from cursing.

_Kemp_ was involved?

But if it was what he suspected, then why hadn't Kemp mentioned it…

Skinner sighed.

He'd have to be off again.

"Well, thank you for your time, Miss Coote," he said, shaking her hand casually as he attempted to contain the emotions within him. "However, I must be off; I have business to attend to elsewhere."

"You're leaving us already?" Miss Coote said, sounding slightly disappointed. "But you haven't even seen the classrooms yet?"

"I have seen enough to give me cause to think," Skinner said, as he turned around and started to walk back towards the entrance. "Good day to you, Miss Coote; you may hear from me in the future."

_But I doubt it_, he thought, as he entered his carriage.

"Take me to Burdock," he said to the river as he sat down. "If we need to stop somewhere on the way there, feel free; I just need to get there within the next day or two."

"Of course, Mr Skinner," the man at the front of the carriage said. His name was Caesar, and he'd been recommended to the League a couple of times in the past by Mycroft Holmes; apparently the coachman had once aided Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson in following a man who had kidnapped Watson's wife.

When Skinner had begun to make his plans, he'd contacted Caesar in the event of him needing a fast coach on this private mission, and Caesar had eagerly accepted the offer, ready and willing to have a true test for his horses and himself.

As the coach began to drive away from the school, Skinner began to contemplate what he'd just learned.

If it was accurate, and Doctor Kemp _was _involved, could that mean…

Skinner stopped himself. He may not have a very deductive mind, but he remembered one of Sherlock Holmes's main rules when investigating a case; don't theorise until you know all the facts, otherwise you'll alter the facts to fit your views, instead of altering your views to fit the facts.

Until he knew otherwise, he'd just assume it was a new guy.

And hope and pray it wasn't _him_…


	6. Splitting Up While Under Watch

Disclaimer: I don't own anyone here that you recognise.

Feedback: Much appreciated

**Samyo:** Can't tell you that; I've never read that comic myself

**DiabloCat: **That's a relief; I was worried that Skinner'd just come off as an idiot rather than anything else.

**ToTaKeKe13: **Glad it went down well, but, unfortunately, that's all you'll be seeing of aristocrat Skinner for now.

**Lucinda: **Thanks for understanding; I just hope it was worth the wait.

**Ten Mara:** Well, I figured they deserved to be included, no matter _how _improbable Rosa's physiology was…

A Face in the Crowd

Walking into the control room of the _Nautilus_, Jekyll looked curiously over at Nemo as he stood at the wheel, staring listlessly out in front of him at the ocean. To avoid attracting attention, they were keeping the _Nautilus _underwater most of the time, but each League member had a signalling device that could be used if they were outside and needed it to surface.

"Anything interesting?" he asked the captain.

Nemo looked back at him, briefly startled, but relaxed after seeing who it was. He shook his head.

"No… I was merely thinking," he replied. "It simply occurred to me that this is an old anniversary for me, and I have not had the opportunity to reflect on it for a long time."

"Really?" Jekyll asked, looking inquiringly at the captain. "What would that be?"

Nemo sighed. "My wedding anniversary," he said.

Jekyll blinked in surprise at that comment.

"You're _married_?" he asked him, realising too late that the question might appear a bit insensitive.

However, Nemo just smiled casually, understanding what he meant. "Yes, I know I have never mentioned her before, but it was all a long time ago," he explained. Then he sighed and turned back to the window. "Besides, it is… painful… to think of her, shall we say."

"Oh," Jekyll said, slightly subdued at that. "It… didn't end well?"

"In a sense," Nemo replied. "Our home was destroyed by the British while I was attempting to organize a resistance movement against them. She died that day."

He looked back at the ocean, and sighed. "Along with my son and daughter…"

"Oh," Jekyll said again. He walked towards his friend, placing a consoling hand on his shoulder. "I'm… sorry, Nemo."

Nemo smiled slightly back at him. "Thank you, Doctor Jekyll," he said simply.

The door opened and Mina and Terry walked into the control room, Mina looking slightly concerned about something (Terry, of course, looked just as blank and vacant as he ever did).

"Something wrong?" Jekyll asked, looking back at them curiously.

"Yes, actually," Mina said, looking over at her friend, her concern now slightly more obvious on her face. "Sawyer and Hartdegen are missing."

Nemo and Jekyll looked sharply back at that.

"What?" Nemo asked, looking between the two of them. "Both of them?"

"Affirmative," Terry said, looking between the two of them as he spoke. "The reason is unknown, but it is certain that Tom Sawyer and Alexander Hartdegen have been absent from the _Nautilus _since early last night and have still not returned."

Jekyll swallowed. "Oh dear," he said simply. He looked over at Mina. "I assume we'll be mounting a search operation?"

Something seemed to snap inside Mina. Before Nemo or Jekyll could even blink, Jekyll found himself being held at least a foot up off the ground, Mina's hands grasping his lapels as she stared him in the eyes- her own were now their vampiric red.

"You _assume_, Doctor?" Mina asked him, her voice so low at first that it was terrifying, and it was rising all the time. "You _ASSUME _we'll be mounting a rescue to save our leader? To save the love of my life? To save our _FRIENDS_? If you even have to ASK that question, it almost makes me feel like you shouldn't BE here!"

Having finished that little rant, Mina threw Jekyll to the ground, watching dispassionately as he hit a nearby wall.

Nemo blinked in surprise at his associate's sudden outburst, and then glanced back at Mina Harker.

"Was that really necessary?" he asked the vampire.

Mina spun around to look at Nemo, her eyes briefly blazing red with the animal-like fury of her vampire self, but then she calmed down, gradually slowing her breathing to a calmer rate.

"No… no, it wasn't," she said, shaking her head as she looked back up at the others. "Forgive me; I'm a little… on edge, shall we say?"

Nemo nodded amiably. "Understandable," he said dismissively, before looking around at the others. "Our immediate priorities would appear to be simple; find our missing comrades, find who captured them, and get them out while finding out the reasons for the attack. Agreed?"

The other three League members nodded, and then Mina took charge of the situation.

"Nemo, you're with me; Terry, you and Jekyll stick together, but keep a sample of your serum available," she said, looking over at Jekyll. "Nemo and I will cover the East end of London, and you two cover the West; try and set off some kind of signal if you find our friends."

"Affirmative," Terry said, as he glanced over at Jekyll. "Do you have a sample of your serum on you at present?"

"What?" Oh, er… yes," Jekyll said, patting one of his pockets. "Yes, I do."

"Good," Terry said, as he checked under his coat for the Colt pistols that he traditionally kept under there; he'd started wearing them after Sawyer recommended he have more conventional means of defending himself in a fight than just his remarkable strength. "Let's go."

* * *

From around a corner, just out of range of the enhanced senses (Natural or mechanical) of the League members, an invisible form chuckled as he watched them head for the submarine's exit.

Honestly, sneaking on here had been so easy he was surprised that nobody had tried it before. Admittedly, his invisibility gave him a certain advantage, but still…

Looking at the four blasphemers as they walked towards London, he made his choice; he'd target the doctor and the machine first. That way, even if by some miracle the machine was able to perceive his godlike countenance, he would be able to use the doctor's drug to enhance his already formidable power to a far greater degree…

He ran after them, chuckling as he noticed them go past the warehouse where he'd hidden the spy and the teacher; these four really had no clue how to find something. Quite frankly, he was doing the world a favour by taking them out of the equation…

Apart from the obvious blessing of depriving it of such terrible blasphemers, obviously.

* * *

"Great…" Jekyll sighed, as he stared down at the ground listlessly, Terry looking around at their surroundings; a deserted alleyway in one of the darker areas of London. Jekyll vaguely recalled Terry mentioning something about using 'infrared vision' to try and spot Sawyer and Hartdegen, but he wasn't clear on what that was.

Then again, _he _was sometimes able to see people by their body heat when he was Hyde; maybe this was something similar…

Suddenly, Terry froze, looking at something in front of them (At least, Jekyll assumed it was in front of them; Terry always wore a spare pair of Skinner's pince-nez glasses when he went out in public, presumably to avoid attracting attention to the fact that he rarely ever blinked).

"What?" Jekyll asked, looking inquiringly at his friend. "What's wrong?"

"There's someone behind us," Terry replied, looking over at Jekyll. "They're trying to be quiet, but they trod on a fallen stick and it broke." He sighed slightly, although Jekyll knew it was mostly for appearance's sake than anything else; Terry's skin might need him to breath at times, but he still didn't do it that much, even after the best efforts of the League to help him blend in. "Damnit; I don't like the sound of this."

Jekyll smiled slightly. "If they think they can attack us, they've got another thing coming, my friend," he said, allowing a slight grin across his features. "After all…"

He patted Terry slightly on the shoulder. "You were _made _for fighting."

"Affirmative," Terry said, nodding slightly. One corner of his mouth raised slightly in a smile. "Shall we?"

"We shall," Jekyll replied. Superhumans were one thing, even _with _the Hyde serum, but a normal criminal? And with Terry to help him?

The man didn't have a prayer.

Reaching into his pocket, Jekyll pulled out the bottle of serum he had in his pocket; he wouldn't use it all, of course, but if things went wrong, even a little sip should be enough to increase his strength to above the average level.

The two men- well, one man and one machine- tensed, turned around…

And there was nothing there.

At least, nothing that Jekyll could-

"Move!" Terry called out to Jekyll, reaching out to grab his arm…

Just as something hit Jekyll in the face at high speed, throwing him to the ground and causing the bottle with the serum in it to fly out of his hand before something caught it in mid-air.

Jekyll stared at the bottle in horror.

Only one man, to his knowledge, could do something like this…

"_Skinner_!" he yelled in horror, looking at where he could only assume his opponent's head was; he could feel a pair of legs pinning him down, but even that was only guesswork. "But… but…"

"And you call yourself intelligent," a mocking voice said- _not _Skinner, Jekyll was relieved to note; there wasn't even a trace of the invisible man's cockney accent.

Then, to Jekyll's horror, the bottle's cork popped open, and it began to trickle down in the air above him; evidently, the invisible man was…

_Was drinking it_!

"NO!" Jekyll cried out, lashing out with one desperate fist at where he thought his foe's head was, noting with relief that Terry was doing the same…

And something grabbed their oncoming fists.

Something that was getting very, very much larger.

"Oh no…" Jekyll whispered to himself, as he felt whatever was pinning him down suddenly get far heavier.

He looked over at Terry. Even though Terry was originally a ruthless machine dedicated to the destruction of humanity… even though he had faced off against a deranged monster with the powers of four of his friends _and _an alien invader from Mars…

Terry actually looked scared.

Then something struck Jekyll in the face, apparently with his own hand, and he knew no more.


	7. The Truth About Griffin

Disclaimer: I don't own anyone here that you recognise.

Feedback: Much appreciated

**Samyo: **Sam, my friend, _that _is putting it mildly

**ToTaKeKe13:** If you want to know more about Terry, read my story 'Skynet Spreads'; it explains what he's doing with the League in the first place

**St Apathy:** No, I _do _like Jekyll; I just needed to show her fear for Tom, and Jekyll was just in range.

**Ten Mara:** Well, his family plays a part in a future story of mine, so I thought it best to show he still thinks about them. Oh, and I'm glad you liked the other character moments.

**DiabloCat:** 'Uh oh' indeed…

A Face in the Crowd

Once again, Skinner checked over his clothing as he stood outside the large door; dark trousers, a long dark brown coat, and a white shirt, with his traditional trilby hat perched at an angle on his head. He knew it was a bit of an odd ensemble, but he felt that he needed to generate an air of both professionalism and eccentricity if he wanted to avoid attracting awkward questions from the man he was here to visit.

After all, where was the point in generating unnecessary concern?

Walking down towards the door, Skinner knocked on the door. After a few moments, it was opened by a tall man dressed in a white coat, with thin glasses and close-cropped hair. (AN- picture him as looking like Hugh Grant, but think of him as a _competent _Hugh Grant)

"Yes?" he asked, looking at Skinner.

"Doctor Kemp?" Skinner asked, trying to inject a note of authority in his voice.

Kemp nodded. "I am," he said, raising an inquiring eyebrow. "And you are?"

"Allan Sawyer, private detective," Skinner said, off the top of his head (He'd have to remember to suggest that to Tom and Mina as a name if they ever had a son; it sounded good). "Could I come in, please? I have some questions to ask you."

Kemp shook his head. "I'm really rather busy," he said, sounding only slightly regretful about his inability to help the ex- invisible man. "So, if you wouldn't mind coming back later…"

He began to shut the door, but Skinner jammed his foot in the gap, wincing slightly as it closed on him.

"It's regarding events that occurred in this village a few years ago," he said, looking as casual as e could with one foot stuck out in front of him.

He looked Kemp in the eyes. "Specifically, it concerns Mr Hawley Griffin."

Kemp stared at Skinner for a few moments, and then sighed and opened the door.

"You'd better come in," he said, indicating a door to one side of the hall.

* * *

"Any luck yet, Mrs Harker?" Nemo asked, looking inquiringly over at his friend. Mina was currently trying to track down Sawyer and Hartdegen using her heightened sense (She claimed to know Agent Sawyer's well, and Nemo could see no reason why she wouldn't), but, so far, they had achieved no breakthroughs in their attempts to find their missing friends.

"No…" Mina growled slightly at the Indian; she was getting rapidly frustrated at her inability to find the man she loved in this mess. Honestly, she'd been so eager to get out and actually _start _searching that she'd neglected to think about the fact that they were in _London_- a city filled with so many conflicting smells that she sometimes wondered how police tracker-dogs could ever find their way around the place…

_I need to remember to get in some practice with these senses…_ Mina thought to herself, already knowing she'd never do it; even now, she found it difficult to fully accept her vampire abilities.

Even after Tom had…

Mina couldn't keep a small smile from her face at the thought of her lover, despite the pain it caused her now as she tried desperately to find him. She still couldn't quite believe how lucky she was to find another man who didn't care about her vampire aspects, but, on the contrary, simply regarded them as part and parcel of being with her. Like Jonathan and Dorian had been, he wasn't scared of them, but, unlike Gray used to ask her, he, like Jonathan, didn't encourage her to use her vampire powers in random situations unless they were necessary.

It was as though he just regarded them as an interesting… _perk_, she supposed… rather than something she _had _to use.

Something made a light cracking sound from behind her, and Mina froze.

Whatever it was that had caused that, it sounded _far _larger than anything human…

* * *

"So, who are you?" Kemp asked, as he poured a shot of whiskey and passed it to Skinner, pouring one for himself as he did so. "And what's your interest in Griffin?"

"It's simple," Skinner said, hoping his cover story would work; after all, it was nearly the truth, but the problem lay in the _nearly_. "I represent a group of people who, while not interested in harnessing Griffin's research itself for their own purposes, _do _believe that there was more to his demise than the public know about. These people have hired me to question you, as the sole known witness to the events in question, to find out what exactly became of Griffin in his final struggle against humanity, before he finally fell."

Kemp sighed and took a sip of his whiskey.

"Well, I suppose it was too much to expect that nobody would ask it," he said, looking over at Skinner. "I suppose you studied the college records and noticed that Griffin _wasn't _an albino?"

Skinner blinked.

Whatever else he'd been expecting, he hadn't been expecting _that_…

* * *

"Nemo," Mina said to her friend out of the corner of her mouth, "don't look around, but I think there's something following us."

"What?" Nemo asked, looking over at Mina in surprise. "Are you certain, Mrs Harker?"

"I am," Mina said, nodding slightly in response to his query. "I can't be certain what, but it sounds dangerous; it certainly seems to be bulky enough to give Hyde a run for his money."

Nemo blinked.

"But… we have not seen anything of that size, and nobody else has either," he said, staring at the vampire as though she'd grown an extra head. "Are you sure you are not mistaken?"

Mina sighed. "Trust me, Nemo; I don't know what's back there, but I do know it's big, and I'm _pretty _sure it might be hostile; we have to be ready to react."

She tensed slightly, as though preparing herself to attack, and glanced over at the captain.

"Get your sword ready, and, on my cue, spin around," Mina whispered to him, nodding in approval as Nemo's hand went for his sword. "I don't know what's going on here, but there's only one way to find out."

Nemo nodded and grasped his sword.

"On three," Mina whispered to him. "One… two… three!"

The two of them spun around…

And there was nothing there.

* * *

"But…" Skinner said, looking at Kemp in confusion. "But all records clearly state that Griffin _was _an albino!"

"No, they don't " Kemp said, looking back at Skinner with a sigh. "Griffin's school records were altered by myself and a few old friends after the Invisible Man was thought to have been killed; we were concerned about the possibilities that awaited the world if people knew how easy it was to become invisible. If they knew that the process worked for everyone…"

He sighed. "We'd have had countless people trying to steal Griffin's books, uncaring of the consequences that awaited the subject of permanent invisibility."

He looked back at Skinner. "You can see why we'd want to keep the truth quiet."

"Indeed," Skinner said, nodding slowly in understanding; after all, hadn't he tried to stop the spread of the invisibility serum himself, all those years ago on his first mission with the League? "So, if Griffin wasn't an albino, why is it that all medical records of the invisible man that was collected after he died in that fight clearly indicate that the bodyof the Invisible Man_was_ that of an albino?"

"Simple," Kemp replied, looking back at Skinner. "It wasn't Griffin."

* * *

"What the…?" Mina asked, looking around in confusion. "But… but…"

Then something seemed to strike her in the chest with incredible force and she collapsed to the ground, leaving Nemo staring at the apparently empty air in horror.

He could only think of one thing that could do something like this…

"Moran?" he said, staring at where the punch seemed to have originated from. "What are you doing back here so soon?"

A voice spoke. It was tinged with the madness Nemo had come to associate with the former tiger-hunter and second-in-command to Moriarty, but it wasn't the same voice; if anything, this voice sounded more fanatical, almost… _drunk_ on power.

Nemo knew how it felt; he'd felt that way himself, in the old days when he'd used the _Nautilus _as a weapon of war against the British forces he blamed for the deaths of his family.

"I am not this… _Moran_, blasphemer," the voice said, its voice bearing the traditional harshness that Nemo now associated with the voice of Edward Hyde. "I am far, far worse…"

* * *

"It _wasn't _Griffin?" Skinner asked, staring at Kemp in surprise. "But then… then who _was _it?"

Kemp sighed as he took another drink. "I've puzzled over that myself for ages," he said. "I eventually came up with a possibility; he was used by Griffin as a test subject of the serum, presumably to see how it affected someone with no colour in them and then work out a way to duplicate for someone who actually _had _pigmentation in their skin and hair." He looked back at Skinner as he spoke. "I was never able to find where the man in question came from; I eventually concluded it was one of those mysteries that man is destined never to solve."

"And… Griffin?" Skinner asked, looking inquiringly at Griffin.

"He must have gone underground after the subject was killed," Kemp said. "I assumed he'd just be biding his time until he could strike back, but I've never heard anything that might be him since."

He sighed. "And, _God_, am I grateful to see the last of that man and his god complex…"

"His what?" Skinner asked, looking at Kemp curiously. "What do you mean, his god complex?"

Kemp swallowed and looked at Skinner.

"Towards the end… before he fled my house… Griffin was becoming convinced that there were other invisible men out there," he said, as he put down his drink while continuing to talk. "Not many- maybe just one or two others- but he was certain that, while he'd been deprived of access to his books, someone had looked at them and copied the information recorded within about the invisibility process."

"And… how did he feel about that?" Skinner asked, his fingers crossed inside his jacket pockets. This might just be the missing piece to the puzzle he'd been looking for…

"Angry," Kemp said, as he looked back at Skinner. "He felt that his invisibility made him… well, a god, to be honest. He regarded all these others with the serum as being guilty of blasphemy, pretending to be him when he was the only man who truly deserved to be invisible and wield the power that offered. Before he left, he was starting to rant about finding them and punishing them for their supposed 'crimes'…"

He looked at Skinner again, concern on his features at the memory. "Along with any of their friends."

Skinner nearly dropped his glass.

_Oh no…_ he thought to himself, staring blankly ahead at nothing in particular.

If Kemp's assessment of Griffin's psychological state was accurate- and he really _was _alive…

_The League were in danger!_

Skinner stood up and smiled slightly at Kemp.

"Thank you for your assistance, Doctor Kemp," he said, smiling idly at the man in question. "I have to go now."


	8. Preparations for Rescue

Disclaimer: I don't own anyone here that you recognise.

Feedback: Much appreciated

**Samyo: **Well, glad to hear it went down well, anyway

**DiabloCat: **Glad to hear I was able to fill the gap

**ToTaKeKe13:** Indeed, indeed… (Don't forget to leave a review when you read it, btw)

A Face in the Crowd

Back in the carriage, Skinner quickly thought over his options from here on in. He could call the League and warn them, of course, but if Griffin had been active in Miss Coote's boarding school as recently as he appeared, he may have already found the League anyway…

_And if that's the case_, Skinner thought to himself, gripping the seat as though willing the coach to go faster, _we're in _serious _trouble…_

He knew that the League wouldn't have much chance at detecting the presence of an invisible man; even after all the hours he'd spent sneaking around the _Nautilus _for a laugh, to date, Allan had been the only person to know he was there before he started to talk.

Oh, Mina could sometimes smell him if he stayed in one place long enough, and sometimes Jekyll got a bit edgy, as though Hyde was trying to tell him something, but neither of them ever _really _knew he was there unless they already had an idea that they should be trying to detect him.

_Which means they have a_ serious_ problem if Griffin's there already_, Skinner thought to himself; at least Mina and Hyde actually _knew _his scent. Griffin would be totally unfamiliar to them; they probably wouldn't be able to tell whether they were smelling someone who was there at the _moment _or someone who'd recently _left_…

He nodded in resolution.

Knocking on the front of the carriage, he stuck his head out the window to look at the man in the driver's seat.

"Get me to London, top speed," he said to the driver.

"Right 'way, sir," the man said, sitting back and cracking his whip as the two horses in front charged forward.

Skinner sat back down in his seat, swallowed, and clasped his new stick so hard that the knuckles turned white, his eyes fixed on a point in front of him that was invisible to anyone else who might look in.

His friends might be in danger.

He had to try and save them…

_No matter what the cost_, Skinner vowed to himself, as he stared at his hand.

If saving the League meant having to become invisible again…

Well, he'd cross that bridge when he came to it.

* * *

A few hours later, having exchanged horses at least twice by Skinner's count, the carriage had stopped in London docks, Skinner had paid the man, and he'd finally left the carriage. It was nearly night, but he still had enough light to find his way through the alleys leading to the League's last location easily enough.

Hoping against hope, Skinner began to walk down the alleyways where the _Nautilus _had been when he'd left. If the League were still here, it was a good bet that the _Nautilus _was as well; they wouldn't move it if they hadn't left the city yet.

If it wasn't there, then they'd already left the city, and, in a way, it would be a relief; at least they wouldn't have to worry about Griffin for the moment.

Skinner rounded the corner…

And there it was; the _Nautilus_, the 'Sword of the Ocean', still in its original location from a week ago.

"Ah crap…" Skinner muttered to himself.

Then he smiled slightly, as though trying to reassure himself. After all, if it was here, the League were probably still inside; he could contact them, let them know of his worries about Griffin's continued existence, and then take it from there.

Walking up towards the open hatch at the bottom, Skinner walked up the ramp to the closed door, and, swallowing, knocked.

A few moments later, the door was opened by Patel, Nemo's first mate.

"Yes, wh- Mr Skinner?" Patel asked, staring at the thief in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

"Look, never mind the fine print, I have to speak with the League," Skinner said, as he walked into the submarine and began to head towards the League's quarters, Patel close behind him. "Where are they?"

"They are… missing, Mr Skinner," Patel said, sighing as Skinner froze.

He turned around to look at the Indian, shock on his features.

"What?" he said, unwilling to believe he'd just heard that.

It _couldn't _be true…. No _way _could Griffin have done something like _that _in so little time…

"How?" he asked Patel, unable to conceal his sudden fears that he was too late, that Griffin had already gone after the League for some demented reason… "And when?"

"Last night, Agent Sawyer and Professor Hartdegen went out for drinks to discuss how to continue without you as a member of our League, and never came back," Patel explained. "The other four went out this morning to look for them, but they have never come back. We were about to send out search parties-"

"Don't," Skinner said, raising a hand. "I have an idea as to who's after them, and if I'm right, no number of search parties would be enough to find him unless you know exactly where to look; this guy's smart."

He turned around and began to head for his room, beckoning Patel to follow him.

"Get teams together- never anything with less than two people in it- and tell them to go through London checking for any large, abandoned buildings; never anything that hasn't been out of use for less than a year," Skinner said, as he headed towards the room that Mina and Jekyll had turned into the League's chemistry lab. "If they find anything that could be the others, let me know, but don't try anything yourselves; if I'm right, you couldn't even _see _the bad guy to hit him."

Patel stopped, looking at Skinner incredulously.

"Are… are you saying that you suspect our adversary is…"

"Invisible?" Skinner asked, looking back at Patel. He nodded. "Yep, that's my theory."

He sighed and began to walk again, followed by Patel. "I'll be in the lab for the next hour or so; don't disturb me until I have to come out again, or I could make a mistake in my work."

Patel nodded. "Of course, Mr Skinner," he said; to his credit, he didn't appear to be too shaken about Skinner's recent revelation regarding the possibility of an invisible foe now that he'd gotten over the initial shock of it. "And should any of the teams find Captain Nemo and the other members of the League?"

"One of the group stays there while the other one comes back here to pick us up and fill us in on where they're being held; at least that way they might be able to let us know if the League's moved anywhere else," Skinner said, as he reached the lab and opened the door, already taking stock of the chemicals on the shelves; he was reasonably confident of being able to recreate the formula from memory, especially after their visit to the future a couple of months back, but he couldn't do it without all the necessary ingredients…

He sighed in relief; everything seemed to be here.

"I'll be with you in an hour or so," he said to Patel, as he indicated the door. "Don't forget; I don't want anyone to interrupt me before I come out unless it's absolutely essential, got that?"

"Of course, Mr Skinner," Patel said, bowing slightly as he left the room.

Skinner rolled up his sleeves and began to gather the necessary beakers and chemicals together, intent on having the serum finished as soon as possible; every second wasted meant that his friends were in ever more danger….

* * *

(AN: The 'visit to the future a couple of months back' Skinner mentioned occurred in my Friends/ LXG crossover 'The One Where They Help Save The World', just in case you're interested.)

* * *

Almost an hour later, Skinner found himself staring at the finished result in front of him. The serum had been poured into a hypodermic needle he'd managed to find in the cupboards, the rest of it stashed away out of sight in case it was needed in the future for some reason, and, right now, he was trying to decide what to do next.

If he did this, he knew there might be no turning back; he was pretty sure it couldn't be good for him to keep using both the invisibility formula and the antidote on a regular basis, and, until they could figure out an alternative cure, that would remain the best option they had for him to use his powers _and _remain normal…

_Why should I do it, anyway_? Skinner asked himself. _What the hell has being invisible ever given me, eh?_ _Just burns, bruises, bashes, and close calls with all kinds of bizarre freaks! Why should I give up my chance at a normal life for _them

He moved as though he was about to throw the needle away, but stopped himself just before he let it go and looked back at it, sighing.

He knew why he'd do it.

It was the reason he'd gone this far in the first place.

For all his problems with them, the League were his family. Of everyone he'd known- even his _biological _parents- they'd been the only ones who hadn't abandoned him when he'd been a pain in the neck.

In the face of all his problems, when there was nobody left in the world who could feel totally comfortable around him, the League had taken him in, becoming the brothers, sister, and uncle he'd always wanted but never had when he was growing up.

They'd given a home.

More, they'd given him a _purpose_; something to do with his life that didn't _just _benefit him alone.

Toying with the needle, he stared at his rolled-up left sleeve, experimentally flexing his fingers as his eyes remained on the needle.

Could he?

Couldn't he?


	9. Facing the Madman

Disclaimer: I don't own anyone here that you recognise.

Feedback: Much appreciated

**Samyo:** He still has to actually _inject _himself with it, remember…

**DiabloCat:** Glad you're liking it, but don't forget, there's still a line between creating the serum and actually _using _it…

**Madamwolf:** Here you are, and I hope it meets with your expectations

A Face in the Crowd

"Oh, _God_…" Sawyer muttered, as he gradually blinked his eyes open. "What was I _drinking _last night…"

Then his memory came flooding back, and his eyes widened in horror.

"Oh no…" Sawyer muttered to himself, as the full scale of the problem began to sink in.

He'd been _captured_?

But why?

And by who?

"Ah, good; at least _one _of you's awake at last," a voice said. Looking over in the direction of the voice, Sawyer saw a tall figure, dressed in a dark green dressing gown that came down to cover his feet, and brown gloves, with bandages wrapped around his entire head and sunglasses over his eyes. "I have to admit, I was getting worried; I wanted all of you awake sooner rather than later, and you were all already trying my patience."

All_ of us…_? Sawyer thought to himself, as he nervously looked around at his surroundings. This guy _couldn't _mean that he'd actually managed to capture…

He groaned.

He _had_ captured the other members of the League! He, Jekyll, Hartdegen and Nemo were all gathered around the centre of a large warehouse, tied to four of the wooden pillars that seemed to be holding the roof up, while Mina and Terry were lying off to one side, each one attached to metallic bars that appeared to be only recent additions to whatever kind of building they'd found themselves inside.

Sawyer and the others near him seemed to only be held down by rope, as far as he could see, but Mina and Terry were tied to their pillars by chains; evidently, whoever this guy was, he knew that Mina and Terry couldn't be kept tied down by normal means.

"Damnit…" Sawyer muttered to himself, as he looked back at the man. "Who are you, and what do you have against us?"

"Oh, don't play the innocent with me, Agent Sawyer," the man said, glaring at him angrily. "You should know that blasphemers always get what they deserve in the end; did you really think you could get away with paying homage to a false idol?"

Sawyer blinked in confusion.

"Uh, if this is about Nemo worshipping Kali, he's the only one who does that, and surely he's allowed to pay homage to the gods he was taught about growing up-" Sawyer began, but was stopped from saying any more by the man suddenly walking over to him and punching him in the face, before grabbing his head and turning it to face him again.

"I don't refer to those idiotic _Indian _gods, Mr Sawyer," the man said, sounding like he was speaking through clenched teeth underneath his bandages. "I'm referring to the erstwhile Mr Rodney Skinner; did you really believe you could get away with it?"

He chuckled slightly as he released his grip on Sawyer's head and stood back. "Didn't you read the Bible when you were a child?" he asked, mockingly. "One of the Ten Commandments was 'Thou shalt not worship false idols', and you broke that one fairly often thanks to Mr Skinner."

"What the hell…?" Sawyer said, staring at the man in confusion. "Are you saying you think Skinner was a god?"

"NO!" the man yelled, walking towards Sawyer and hitting him in the face with a powerful punch; Sawyer thought he heard something crack, but a quick inspection with his tongue revealed that all his teeth were still intact and his jaw felt fine.

"He was NOT a god; he was a false idol to the title of Invisible Man!" the voice yelled at Sawyer, as he dazedly turned his head to look back at his tormentor. "And _you_… all _SIX _of you… worshipped him as though he were the real thing!"

Giving in to temptation, Sawyer rolled his eyes; he couldn't believe he was hearing this!

"Look, Mr Whoever-you-are," Sawyer said, trying to sound as though he wasn't patronising the man, "I don't know where you got this idea from, but the League didn't regard Skinner as a god, and neither did he; he just thought of himself as being a bit… colour-challenged, for lack of a better term,"

"YOU _LIE_!" the man yelled, grabbing Sawyer's shirt and hauling him up so that they were nearly nose-to-nose. "The Invisible Man is a _god _among men, any fool can see that! He _must _be worshipped! Anyone who spends time with him cannot _fail _to worship him! But there is only one _real _Invisible Man- the _first _Invisible Man- and you must all be _punished _for your blasphemy against me!"

Sawyer was about to reply to that comment when his brain finished processing the man's last words, and he suddenly felt very confused.

"Um… against _you_?" he asked, looking at the man in confusion. "Could you explain what the hell you're going on about?"

The man seemed to calm down slightly at that, and chuckled as he let Sawyer fall back to the ground and stepped back, reaching up to his head as he began to remove the bandages from his head.

"You want to know my motives, Mr Sawyer?" he asked, raising an eyebrow as he paused briefly to put his glasses into the pocket of his dressing gown, the bandages now almost slumped around his head. "Then here you are."

With one tug, the bandages were pulled off the man's head, to reveal…

Sawyer stiffened up in horror.

There was _nothing _underneath the bandages.

But if this guy thought that there should only be _one _Invisible Man, and that the one was the first Invisible Man…

"Damnit…" he muttered under his breath, before raising his head to look at the guy again. "Hawley Griffin, I assume? Rumours of your death were exaggerated, I see… or don't, as the case may be."

"Indeed," the man said, grinning. "At least you know the name of the man who has come to deal out divine just-"

"Oh, just shut _up_ already!" Sawyer yelled; now that he'd gotten what he wanted to know out of the man, he wasn't in the mood for hearing some psychopath blab on about his so-called 'genius'.

Griffin- _Griffin!_- lunged forward, punching Sawyer again before grabbing his jaw and spinning him around to face him again.

"You _dare _tell a _god _to SHUT UP!" Griffin yelled at Sawyer. The young spy was nearly closed his eyes in an instinctive wince at the volume of the yell, but refused to give Griffin the satisfaction.

"Yeah, I dare," he said, looking back at Griffin with a glare. "And you know why? Because you're _not _a god; _none _of the invisible men are! You're all just some guys with a bit of a better talent for staying unnoticed in a crowd who have to figure out ways to stay warm when you're in action in winter! I mean, for God's sake, you never even figured out a way to make your clothes invisible with you; how the _hell _do you expect to be regarded as a god when you get a cold whenever it's even slightly chilly?"

"SHUT UP!" Griffin yelled, punching Sawyer in the face with such force that the spy's head was forced back, cracking his head against the post that he was tied to and causing an unpleasant crunching sound to come from his nose.

Blood streaming down his face, Sawyer glared back at Griffin, trying to conceal the pain he was feeling at the moment.

"Is that all you can do to me?" he asked Griffin mockingly. "Hit me a lot? _Real _godlike behaviour, that; where's the thunderbolts and the plague of boils?"

Griffin seemed about to punch him again, but then stopped, and Sawyer heard the faint sound of a chuckle, as though he was remembering something funny he'd read once.

"Oh no; I've just had a better idea," he said, as he turned away from Sawyer and began to untie his dressing gown, throwing the tie off to one side…

_As he began to walk towards Mina_!

"NO!" Sawyer yelled in horror, as he realised what Griffin was intending to do. He couldn't let that happen…

But there was _nothing _he could do!

"Leave her alone!" he yelled at Griffin, as the invisible man reached towards Mina's skirt.

Griffin looked over at Sawyer, and smirked.

"_This _is divine retribution, Mr Sawyer," he said, sounding way too cocky for Sawyer's liking; he was reminded of the Shark's confidence that his forces could handle the League, almost a month ago. "Your old friend tried to usurp my place in the pantheon, and you aided him. You must all be punished."

He began to raise Mina's skirt…

And the, with no warning, the door of the room burst open as though Hyde himself had kicked it open and a man walked in, dressed in browns trousers, a yellowed shirt, a black trilby, black gloves, and a long leather coat that flapped behind him like the wings of a giant bat.

"LEAVE THEM ALONE!" the figure yelled in rage, and Sawyer could have cheered at hearing that voice.

_It was Skinner_….!

Albeit a still-visible Skinner, Sawyer noted, with a mixture of disappointment and relief; the ex-thief's face seemed a shade darker than he'd seen it last, but that could just be attributed to dirt that had hit him when he knocked something over.

On the one hand, at least Skinner hadn't had to give up the normal life he'd wanted so much, but on the other hand, would he actually have a chance against an invisible foe as just a normal guy…?

Then Griffin turned to face Skinner, and Sawyer swallowed.

Whatever way it turned out, _this _wasn't going to be pretty.

* * *

"Excellent," the other Invisible Man- _Griffin_, Skinner reminded himself, _this guy's the _original_, he won't be as easy to stop as Reed was_- said, sounding extremely confident as he looked at Skinner. "The very man I wanted to kill all along."

Skinner swallowed.

Had he had the right idea doing this? After all, it had _seemed _to work, but what if things went wrong? Griffin _did _have more practice at this than he did…

But this was his _family _the bastard was trying to kill. Maybe not his biological family, true, but in many ways, these guys were _closer _to him than his family when he was growing up… after all, would _they_ have risked everything for _him_?

No.

But the League would have.

How could he do less for them?

"You want a fight?" he said to Griffin, as he shifted into a combat stance.

He glared at Griffin under his pince-nez.

"Bring it on," he whispered.

Griffin's armless sleeve launched a punch towards his head, and Skinner ducked to the side to retaliate with a kick to Griffin's chest, already going through every possible combat strategy he could think of…


	10. Skinner vs Griffin

Disclaimer: I don't own anyone here that you recognise.

Feedback: Much appreciated

**Samyo: **You'll have to wait and see, my friend… you'll have to wait and see

A Face in the Crowd

"Weakling!" Griffin roared, as another punch towards his adversary only resulted in him taking a brief spin as Skinner dodged the blow again. "Stand and _fight_, won't you?"

"What's with the sudden eagerness for a struggle, Hawl ol' boy?" Skinner asked, trying to sound casual to conceal how tired he was getting; training with Terry was all well and good, but at least there, on some level, he'd always known he'd survive no matter _how _badly he fought…

"I have _always _been prepared to fight for what is _mine_, blasphemer!" Griffin yelled, lashing out with another punch at Skinner.

"Oh, really?" Skinner asked, as he stepped off to one side and lashed out with a rapid side-blow that caught Griffin in the right side of his face. As the original invisible man hit the ground, Skinner stared down at his adversary, his face behind the mask cold hatred.

"You always wanted a fight, and yet you wanted to be _invisible_?" Skinner asked, looking at Griffin angrily, trying not to think about the fact that his friends were lying behind him in varying degrees of pain. "No offence, but if you wanted to get into fights, wouldn't it make more sense to work on enhancing your _strength _rather then your _stealth_?"

Griffin rolled over on the floor and leapt back onto his feet, apparently glaring at Skinner; he certainly appeared to be facing the other man, but his facial expression was, for obvious reasons, a matter of some debate.

"You call _me _a coward, and yet _you _once possessed the same power as I did?" Griffin yelled at Skinner, as the two men began to circle around the room, each one waiting for an opening to strike back. "Hypocricy _and _blasphemy? You truly seek the anguish of Hell itself!"

"I'm not a hypocrite, Griffin; I'm just not like you," Skinner said, glaring back at his rival. "You wanted to be invisible because you thought it would give you great power; I just wanted to be invisible for the stealth. You want to rule the world, you should try and get a power that lets you kick some serious arse."

He shrugged, smiling slightly. "Me, all I wanted was to be a bit better at hiding."

"LIAR!" Griffin yelled, as he kicked out at Skinner with such speed that, for the first time, he actually got through the other man's defences, sending Skinner flying into a nearby wall with an unpleasant _crunch_!

Skinner took a quick mental check of his body. Nothing seemed broken, but his shoulder was in a more than noticeable degree of pain.

Theatrically, Skinner stood back up and glared at Griffin.

"The gloves are off, Hawl," he said, as he reached down to the aforementioned pieces of clothing on his right hand and wrist, took a hold of it, and pulled it off…

To reveal nothing underneath.

* * *

Griffin stared at the seemingly empty wrist in horror and outrage, and then looked back up at Skinner.

"You did it _AGAIN_!" he yelled, sounding somehow happy and appalled at the same time. "You took on the power of invisibility once more? You truly DO wish me send you to Hell for your crimes!"

"No," Skinner said, as, pulling off his other glove, he reached up to his face and began to wipe off the tan theatrical make-up he'd acquired from Hartdegen's room. He'd have preferred his usual grease paint- it was far quicker to apply- but he'd wanted to make sure he took Griffin by surprise, and the make-up had seemed the best way to do so.

"I may go to Hell for stealing, Hawl, but it won't be because _you _feel I deserve it," the ex-thief said, as he shrugged off his jacket and kicked off his shoes. "I did this because it was the only way I could protect my friends. If I had my way, I'd just chuck the invisibility thing and never look back…"

As he shrugged off his shirt, he chuckled slightly. "But, when you're visible, it's bloody difficult to find something else that'll make you _extra_ordinary."

Griffin didn't bother to reply. Instead, he shrugged off his dressing gown and began to pull off his trousers as Skinner did the same. In a few moments, the two invisible men had vanished, brief indents in the dust that covered the ground the only thing to suggest that the two of them were even still in the room.

* * *

"Damnit…" Sawyer muttered, his eyes tracking the slight disturbances on the ground that were all that could tell him where the two men were. He knew that now the two of them were pretty much evenly matched, he _knew _that this was the only way this fight could have turned out…

Still, that didn't change the fact that he would have preferred it if Skinner had continued to fight Griffin while they were both wearing something; at least _that _way he would have known which one was which…

Then a thought occurred to him.

There _was _one League member who might be able to help.

"Terry!" Sawyer hissed over to the cyborg, who was still lying slumped against the pillar in a manner that didn't give Sawyer any confidence. If Terry had been human, he would have been dead already; as it was, all Sawyer could hope was that Terry's self-repair systems were as good as the cyborg had sometimes said they were.

"C'mon, Terry, wake _up_…" Sawyer hissed, as slight grunts and thumps indicated that Skinner and Griffin had started to fight again; evidently neither invisible man was going to surrender, even if they couldn't actually see where their foe was.

Then, to Sawyer's intense relief, Terry's eyes blinked and he looked up at the young American, an almost human expression of curiosity on his face.

"What happened?" he asked.

"Basically? We got captured by the original invisible man, Skinner came back to help us, and right now both of them are slugging it out in what has to be the _dumbest _fight in history!" Sawyer said, indicating a table that had just been knocked over by something crashing into it. "And…" He lowered his voice, anxious for Griffin not to hear this part of the question, "I was wondering… you mentioned something to me once about being able to see Skinner by his body heat?"

"Yes; so?" Terry asked, raising an eyebrow.

Despite the tension of the situation, Sawyer couldn't help but smile slightly at Terry's oh-so-human expression. He was definitely making progress at the 'being-human' thing; in the past, it was all you could do just to make Terry even _smile_.

"Well, any chance you can use that to figure out which one of the invisible men is Skinner and then give him some advice on where to hit?" he said, getting his thoughts back to the matter at hand; he'd compliment Terry on his more human behaviour later.

Terry glanced over in the direction of what, based on the various sounds of flesh hitting flesh, was the current location of the fight, for a few moments, and then looked back at Sawyer with a confirming nod.

"Affirmative," he said, the corners of his mouth turning up in a small smile. "I have Skinner's heartbeat stored in my databanks; from there, it is easy enough to determine which invisible man is which."

* * *

AN: I don't know if you actually _can _tell people apart according to their heartbeats, but it's a technique that Daredevil of Marvel Comics uses sometimes to tell people apart, so I'll assume there's _some _basis to that theory

* * *

Then he turned back to the fight, studied it for a few seconds, and then yelled out, "Hit to the left, Skinner!"

There was a brief pause in the action, then a yell of pain as something hit something else, and a distortion in the dust as though something had hit the ground.

"YES!" Sawyer cheered, as he saw the body hit the ground. Even the increased distortion that was presumably caused by the man getting up didn't dampen his spirits.

His hunch had paid off; even if Griffin knew where _he _was standing in relation to _Skinner_, he couldn't know where _Skinner _was standing in relation to _him_. Therefore, with Terry active and able to see _both _invisible men, as well as the ability to tell them apart…

Sawyer chuckled.

_Griffin doesn't have a prayer_.

* * *

"To your right!" Terry cried out. Instantly, Skinner lashed out with a roundhouse kick, wincing slightly as his heel met hard bone, apparently the ribcage from the feel of it. Still, the resulting yell of pain and the crash to the ground were more than worth it.

This time, Skinner refused to give Griffin a chance to get up; diving to the ground, he launched another punch at where his foe's head appeared to be, based on the dust dispersal, then grabbing the other man's throat and beginning to squeeze, hoping that he'd be able to deprive the man of enough air that he'd pass out.

He knew that there were easier ways to keep the guy down, but most of them involved Skinner having to actually pun him down by _sitting _on him in some way, and Skinner was _not _in favour of coming into skin-to-skin contact with another naked guy…

* * *

Then Griffin lashed out with a desperate punch to Skinner's head, throwing the other invisible man off to one side. Only Terry could see the sight before him, as Griffin leapt up to his feet, glanced contemptuously in the direction of the League, and then towards the door.

"I don't have the time for this foolishness!" he yelled back at them, trying to sound more confident than he actually was. "I came here to punish you for your blasphemy, but evidently some higher power has decreed that this shall not be the day you fall! There are powers before which even _I _must bow to, and, for the moment, it would appear that you are being protected by one such power! But be warned, League, it shall not last forever! I will return, to exact my revenge!"

* * *

As Griffin turned and began to run, Skinner reached over to a nearby table, picked up the Winchester that was lying there, and aimed down the corridor.

"Nope; you'll die and be buried!" Skinner yelled, firing down the corridor in what he hoped was Griffin's direction. A sound like tearing muscle and an agonized scream indicated that his aim, despite lacking anything to actually shoot at, had proved accurate. He couldn't be sure _where _he'd hit Griffin, but at least he'd actually managed to shoot the bastard; might give them some time away from that nutcase…

Sighing, he put the gun, picked up his coat from where it had fallen on the ground, shrugged it back on, and looked back at the other League members.

"So," he said, putting on his pince-nez as he looked around at the other League members, "who missed me?"

Sawyer chuckled slightly at the sight of his old friend standing before him once again, looking for all the world like he'd never actually left the League…

Then his face fell as he thought of how long Skinner had wanted to be visible once again; how long he'd spent asking Jekyll and Hartdegen to find a cure; how long he'd spent staring in the mirror, an empty sleeve tracing the face above his coat, always knowing he was there but never able to see himself…

"Skinner…" the young spy said, looking at his friend with sadness in his eyes. "Why'd you do it? You wanted to be visible more than anything…"

Skinner shrugged as he stuck his hand into his pocket and pulled out a set of lockpicks.

"Well, Tommy boy," he said, as he bent down and began to examine the chains holding the League down, "once you're visible, it's bloody hard to be extraordinary."

He chuckled slightly as he briefly appeared in front of Sawyer. "And, believe it or not, I've actually come to _like _being extraordinary."

Still, as the thief turned back to examine the bonds holding them down, Sawyer couldn't help but think that he'd need to have a talk with Skinner later on about this…


	11. The Reason for Return

Disclaimer: I don't own anyone here that you recognise.

Feedback: Much appreciated

A Face in the Crowd

Two or three days later, Skinner stood on the conning tower of the _Nautilus_, looking out ahead of him as the sun began to set.

Having recovered, the League members who'd still felt in good condition (Jekyll and Hartdegen had felt too out of it to continue) had followed the bloodstains from Griffin's injury to try and find him, but they'd only managed to follow him as far as the side of the Thames before the drips had vanished. It looked as though Griffin had dived into the river to escape the League, but where he'd gone from there was anyone's guess.

They'd search for a while, but, when nothing had turned up, they'd decided to give up on the search for the moment. However, they'd decided to stay in London for a few more days, after sending a message to Mycroft to explain the situation and asking him to let them know if something came up that sounded like it could be Griffin's handiwork. The last few days had been relatively quiet so far, and the League were already thinking of moving on, but Skinner wanted to stay another day to make sure.

He just couldn't shake the feeling that _he _was to blame for Griffin even being here in the first place…

* * *

"Penny for your thoughts?" Sawyer asked, looking at his friend as he stared out at the Thames, illuminated in orange by the setting sun. The invisible thief had kept himself to himself ever since they'd returned to the _Nautilus_, leaving the League with little to no chance to talk to him about the recent events.

In particular, Sawyer had wanted to ask him why he'd come back to them. After all, Skinner had always made no bones of the fact that he wanted to be visible again, and yet, when he couldn't have had much more than an _idea _that the League were in trouble, he'd become invisible again just to help them…

"Keep the change," Skinner muttered, looking back at the spy before he turned back to stare at the sun.

Sighing, Sawyer walked over to stand beside his friend, leaning against the railing of the conning tower as he looked over at Skinner.

"Look, if you're down about Griffin, nobody blames you for him," he said, deciding he might as well take a chance and go for the most likely option.

"What?" Skinner asked, looking at the spy in confusion. "Why would I be blaming myself for Griffin?"

"Because he only came after _us _because you were a member of the League," Sawyer said, looking at his friend as he spoke. "If I were you, I'd be feeling a bit guilty."

Skinner sighed as he stared out at the river before him.

"Yeah, a bit, I guess…" he said, as he looked back at Sawyer. "I mean, I know it's not like I did it _deliberately _or anything, it's just… well…"

He groaned again. "I dunno; I don't even know what _I'm _talking about anymore…"

Sawyer swallowed slightly; if he didn't do this now, he'd _never _get it said…

"Uh… if you don't mind me asking… why'd you do it?" he asked.

Skinner looked over at his unofficial leader in confusion.

"Do what?" he asked, puzzled.

"Become invisible again," Sawyer said, looking at Skinner inquiringly as he spoke. "I mean, you've wanted that ever since you got into the League, and then you just… gave it up? When you weren't even _sure _that you'd get there in time to make a difference no matter what you did? Why?"

Skinner smiled slightly at the question.

"Well, Tommy ol' boy," he said, grinning as he turned to clap his hand on the young American's shoulder, "I realised something in my time away; once you're visible, it's bloody hard to qualify as _extra_ordinary, and I couldn't be bothered to put in all the effort that I'd need to find something new that I'd be incredibly good at."

Sawyer blinked at Skinner in surprise.

"Are you saying… you missed being a member of the League?" he asked, slightly incredulously. "You always made it clear that you _hated _the missions, especially those where you had a chance of getting shot… Why'd you come back to that?"

Skinner shrugged. "The work may be lousy, but it's more than made up for by the company, if you ask me," he said, reaching over and clasping Sawyer's shoulder in an affectionate gesture.

"Besides," he added, looking at the spy with a wide grin on his face, "you know how they say you never appreciate what you've got until you've lost it? That's kind of what happened to me while I was away."

Sawyer nodded in understand at that comment. He didn't want to specify _exactly _what he thought Skinner meant, in case it war wrong, but he had a pretty good idea what the thief meant.

Skinner meant that, like they had become for Sawyer and Mina, the other League members had become his family.

They were hardly a normal one, and they weren't exactly a perfect one either, but, in every way that mattered, the League were a family. They were always there for each other, they were always prepared to risk their lives for each other, and they would do whatever it took to ensure that the rest of their family were safe.

Looking over at Skinner, Sawyer smiled slightly at the thought. The League all came from different backgrounds, had different powers, different hobbies, different religions, and even different tastes in food…

But, when you got down to it, they were all united in their uniqueness from the world at large.

As far as bonds went, that one was pretty strong.

"C'mon," Sawyer said, as he indicated the door and slung a companionable arm over Skinner's shoulders. "Let's go; dinner's up soon."


End file.
